Death by the Book
by Grasa Hombre
Summary: James Bond is stalked by a white-suited assassin while investigating an agents death in Moroco. Bear with me it's my first full length story.
1. Default Chapter

Death by the Book  
  
December 1  
3:00 PM  
  
The woman, wearing a black two-piece bikini, moved seductively over  
the deck of the cruise ship. She held two drinks in her hands, in the left a  
pina colada and in the right a strawberry daquiri. She walked to a man  
lounging in a folding chair. Her shadow covered his body, and he slowly  
took off his sunglasses. He smiled and took the tall glass from the girl's  
right hand. They exchanged smiles, and the girl eased into a folding chair  
next to the man. The woman extended her free right hand, and the man  
wrapped his larger hand around hers. They sat there for a few moments  
while the hot sun basked over their bodies. They simultaneously took  
sips of their drinks. The woman turned her head to the man and asked,  
"How long are you on vacation, dear?"   
  
"Until the fifth of January," the man replied.   
  
"Why so long? Not that I mind," she said with a grin.   
  
The man smiled back and answered, "I just finished a major deal with  
my corporation. They were so pleased with my performance they  
decided to give me an extended vacation."   
  
The girl turned in her chair and said, "That's wonderful. That leaves so  
much more time for ourselves."   
  
The man nodded and took another sip of his drink. They silently stared  
at the blue rolling sea before them. A few moments passed, and another  
shadow fell across the man. The man turned to the shadow and saw a  
man wearing white.   
  
The man wore white shoes and white socks. He wore a white  
two-piece suit, a white shirt beneath, and a white tie around his neck.  
He wore a white fedora, and a white leather belt. The only thing that  
contrasted with his whiteness was his pair of black sunglasses.   
  
"May I help you," the man in the lounge chair asked.   
  
"Your corporation is on the phone for you, sir," the man in white said.   
  
"Univex?"   
  
"Yes, Universal Exports...So, you are the infamous 007."   
  
Bond, the man on the chair, was naked except for his own pair of  
sunglasses and a pair of dark blue swim trunks. He narrowed his eyes at  
the man in white and asked, "And you would be?"   
  
"You can call me Mr. White."   
  
"The name's Bond, Ja-"   
  
"James Bond, yes, I know," Mr. White said. He pulled a pearl handled  
Walther PPK from his suit coat's pocket. He began speaking as he  
fastened a white silencer to the barrel of the pistol, "I know your  
weapon of choice is the Walther PPK, and I thought it would only be  
fitting to kill you with one."   
  
"Yes, I suppose so. But before you kill me would you mind telling me  
who you are and why you are out to kill me," Bond asked, stalling for  
time.   
  
"Normally I'm a hired killer, Mr. Bond. However, my business has been  
lacking a little. Therefore, I thought I would assassinate MI6 agents 007  
in order to boost my business. The girl has been with you ever since you  
left England...she works for me," Mr. White explained.   
  
"Then I've got nothing better to do than surrender," Bond said.   
  
"Correct."   
  
Mr. White raised the pistol and fired. Bond rolled away, off the chair,  
and the bullet hit the woman in the chest. Her body dropped backward  
and thumped on the ship's deck.   
  
Bond stood up, grasped his chair in his hands, and overturned it. The  
chair knocked Mr. White back, giving Bond a slim head start.   
  
Bond raced across the deck of the ship, and Mr. White gave chase,  
while stuffing the pistol back into his suit coat's pocket.   
  
Bond ran into the ship's interior, he was panicked, weaponless, and had  
no idea what to do. A professional killer was after him, and he was  
defenseless. Bond picked up speed and, as he ran passed the other  
passengers, they gave him puzzled looks. Mr. White was close behind,  
Bond could feel it. He had to get to his room and get his own gun.   
  
Bond pushed through a door and clammered down a flight of stairs as  
quickly as he could. Just above he heard the echoes of Mr. White  
coming down the stairwell after him. "Ka-chunk!" A silenced bullet  
pierced the metal step just before Bond. The bullet was so close that  
Bond yelped, and picked up his speed.   
  
Bond raced down a carpeted hall in his bare feet. As soon as he saw his  
room in view, he threw his body into the door. The lock broke,  
splintered into a million pieces. Bond fell on the floor, but quickly picked  
himself up. Mr. White was close behind, he knew it. Bond ripped his  
closet door open and grabbed his black traveling case. He opened it,  
threw up the false bottom, and grabbed his Walther PPK.   
  
Bond looked up and saw Mr. White standing in the doorway, aiming the  
pearl PPK. Bond fired an unaimed shot into the wall, and Mr. White  
ducked away. Bond panicked in his room, he didn't know how to get  
out of here and gain an advantage. A moment later an idea struck him.  
Bond knew he had five bullets left, and Mr. White had four, unless he  
had reloaded. Bond fired into through the doorway two more times.   
  
Three bullets.   
  
Suddenly Bond dove out of his room. He turned away from Mr. White  
and began running down the hallway, firing his gun backwards.   
  
Two bullets.   
  
One bullet.   
  
Bond burst back into the stairwell as one of Mr. White's bullets  
smashed into the wall just beside his head. Bond flinched. He turned,  
and began racing down the stairwell once again.   
  
The chase ensued throughout the halls and stairs of the giant cruise ship.  
Although Bond had no idea where to go he eventually lead Mr. White to  
the back of the ship to the place where the ship's crew stored wave  
runners. Currently, all four wave runners were docked. Bond ran to the  
main counter, shoved his gun in the clerk's face, and yelled, "Give me a  
key, quick!"   
  
Shakily, the man handed over a key.   
  
Bond boarded a wave runner, and blasted out the back of the cruise  
ship. Mr. White followed Bond's actions, and, in moments, he too was  
out of the ship, following Bond at full speed.   
  
Bond moved across the waves, dipping and rising, felling warm wind  
ruffling his hair, and cool water spraying against his face. Mr. White was  
close behind. Bond had no clue of what to do now. He assumed that  
Mr. White was close behind, probably lining him up in the pearl PPK's  
sights. A bullet suddenly struck the back of the rubber seat, inches away  
from Bond. He jumped, and unconsciencly turned the handlebars.   
  
The wave runner made a sharp 180 degree turn, and came to a stop.  
Bond held on to the handlebars with all of his might. He looked up and  
saw Mr. White approaching, a grin on his face, and his pistol raised.   
  
This is it, Bond thought.   
  
Bond aimed his gun and fired. He saw Mr. White's body jerk  
backward, and he saw Mr. White fire a shot into the air. The body  
flopped backward into the water, creating a huge splash. His wave  
runner turned to the right and capsized.   
  
Bond accelerated and slowed over the area where Mr. White fell into  
the water. He saw nothing beneath the crystal blue waters. Where the  
hell did he go, Bond thought. He shook his head, and decided to go  
back to the ship. If Mr. White did resurface he would have ammunition,  
and Bond would have none.   
  
As soon as Bond returned to the ship he was confronted by the captain  
and a number of men. He tried his best to create a wild story about why  
that man tried to kill him. The crew of the ship believed the story.   
  
Later that day, while sitting in bed, Bond's cellular phone sprang to life.  
He snatched it off of his night stand and answered, "Hello?"   
  
"Bond, this is Moneypenny."   
  
"Hello, Moneypenny, how are you this evening?"   
  
"Terrible. Although it isn't very late in your part of the world, it is four in  
the morning here in England."   
  
"I'm sorry to hear that. So what's the call about?"   
  
"Your vacation is being cut short, James. At your cruise's next stop you  
are to find the airport and immediately come back to England. M needs  
you for an important assignment."   
  
"Can't he send 005," Bond pleaded.   
  
"No, James," Moneypenny said with a serious voice. "He's dead." 


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2  
  
December 2nd  
6:59 PM  
  
Bond opened the well oiled door very slowly and peered inside.  
Moneypenny was typing very quickly on a manual typwriter. She still  
prefered the old ways, Bond thought to himself. He threw his hat  
accross the room and it landed on a coat rack. Moneypenny turned  
around and, with tears in her eyes, ushered him inside M's office. She  
was upset about 005's death. He merely nodded and stepped inside  
M's office.   
  
M looked at Bond and motioned for him to sit. He got straight to the  
point. "005 was found dead in Morocco. He was strangled with garrote  
wire. He was investigating a white slavery ring there, and the Morrocan  
authorities requested our help. Apparently, 005 got too close. I want  
you to go down there and pick up where he left off."   
  
Bond looked baffled. "Doesn't MI5 usually handle these cases? What  
makes it so important it requires us?"   
  
"Because the slaves were foreign diplomats. We found one of them, and  
he didn't know who he was. It's an intelligence matter now, 007."   
  
  
December 3rd  
1:52 PM  
  
As Bond stepped out of the airport terminal he looked around. He had  
been here before, but this time was different. This time he had no idea of  
where to look or who to look for.   
  
Bond was wearing a pair of casual brown slacks and a white short  
sleeved shirt. He walked away from the terminal and a man approached  
him, asking if he would want to take a taxi to his hotel.   
  
Bond declined.   
  
The man persisted in asking.   
  
A little annoyed Bond said, "Fine, fine. You can take me to the  
Windsor."   
  
"Thank you very much Mr?"   
  
"Chance, Adam Chance," Bond replied as his false identity.   
  
The man nodded eagerly and Bond scrunched into the cramped taxi  
cab. The man started up the car and they slowly moved down the small,  
crowded streets. The man looked at Bond through the rear-view mirror  
and asked, "So why are you here, sir? Business or pleasure."   
  
"Business. But I intend to have a good time while doing it."   
  
"What do you do, sir?"   
  
"I'm the aid to the British ambassador's secretary."   
  
"So you know a lot about British policy?"   
  
"Yes," Bond replied.   
  
The man was looking at him and licking his lips. He was a short, ugly  
man with bugged eyes and a huge nose. His thinning black hair was in a  
tangled mess around his head. Bond was growing even more annoyed at  
the way the man was looking at him. He looked like a sick-o.   
  
"So have you been in the taxi business for long," Bond asked.   
  
The man made a sharp turn into a narrow alley. They stopped and Bond  
jumped forward in his seat. He knew something was terribly wrong.   
  
The man turned around and Bond saw he was holding a .38 revolver in  
his left hand.   
  
"Actually Mr. Chance I hate driving this taxi. I am more interested in  
something else."   
  
"Kidnapping," Bond asked with a raised eyebrow.   
  
"Waiting for wealthy looking white people, abducting them, and  
throwing them into a slave ring. The job pays quite well. Now, get out of  
the car. And don't try anything funny, because I have people waiting on  
the streets to take you into another car."   
  
"It appears you have the upper hand," Bond said, as he began forming a  
plan in his mind.   
  
The black man led Bond through a crowded marketplace. Salesmen  
called from inside small shacks. "Mr., you seem to be of fine taste. You  
like to buy fresh feesh?" Suddenly a salesman lept out and thrust a  
cheap pot into Bond's face. "Ornate ceremonial pottery Mr. Only cost  
20 pounds, for I see you are English."   
  
"Yes, I'd like to see that," Bond said as he yanked it from the man's  
grasp and smashed it over the taxi driver's face. The salesman screamed  
in protest just as a man in a tunic with a scimitar lept at him. Bond thrust  
a jagged piece of the pot into the assailant's gut. Bond tossed the dying  
man onto the taxi driver, knocking the gun out of his hand.   
  
Bond tossed the salesman a 50 and ran into the crowd. He noticed  
three men with scimitars brandished high, were moving very fast through  
the crowd. Bond tried to think of a way to move faster. He remebered  
M telling him not to photograph any natives, for they thought they lose  
their souls when their picture is taken. He drew out his spy camera (the  
same he used when photographing Hugo Drax's secret documents years  
earlier) and raised it over his head, shouting "Camera! Camera!  
Camera!" The crowd parted, letting him through and he ran towards the  
swordsmen, slowing them down. Bond then tossed his camera into the  
crowd and boarded a taxi and rode away. The assailants tried to follow,  
but the taxi drove too fast. Bond now knew where the slave market  
was. The man was taking him to an old building. He would go there  
tomorrow.   
  



	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE  
  
4:00 PM  
  
After the taxi dropped Bond at the hotel, he paid the fair and walked  
inside. He walked up to the front desk and said, "I believe you have a  
reservation for Adam Chance."   
  
The clerk answered, "Yes, of course, Mr. Chance. Would you mind  
signing the ledger while I get your key?"   
  
Bond picked up the pen and signed "Adam Chance". A few seconds  
later, the clerk returned and handed Bond his key.   
  
"Mr. Chance, you will be staying in the president's suite."   
  
The clerk motioned toward a bellhop. The young man walked over to  
the desk.   
  
"If you would give Andrew your bags, he will be happy to carry them  
for you and show you to your room."   
  
"Actually, the airline lost my luggage. However, they assured me it  
would be arriving sometime this evening.", Bond replied.   
  
Of course, this was a lie. Bond's luggage was still sitting in the cab of the  
man who had unsuccessfully tried to abduct him. However, it didn't  
really bother him. As soon as he was in his room, he would place a call  
to Station M and have them deliever everything he needed. He told the  
desk clerk that he could find the room by himself and walked to the  
elevator.   
  
Once he was alone in his room, he removed a tiny device from his  
pocket. He flicked the switch to "on" and began to walk around the  
room. The device that he held in his hand was a tiny bug detector. If  
there was any listening devices in his room, the bug detector would find  
it. It did not detect any bugs however, so Bond knew it was safe to  
speak. He walked over to the phone beside his bed and attached a  
phone scrambler to it as a precaution. His room may not be bugged, but  
he could not be sure about the hotel's phone lines. Once the scrambler  
was properly attached to the phone, he dialed the number for Station  
M. The voice on the other end of the line asked for his code name.   
  
He said, "Predator."   
  
In a few minutes, a man's voice said, "Hello, Predator, this is Station M.  
What do you need?"   
  
Bond explained his situation and what had happened to his luggage. He  
told them that his gun had been hidden in a secret compartment in his  
suitcase so that it wouldn't set off metal detectors at the airport.  
Therefore, he would require some clothes, as well as a gun, a holster,  
and a couple of items that Q had demonstrated for him at MI6. The  
agent at Station M asked his sizes as well as his preference concerning  
guns. Bond told him his sizes and asked for his favorite gun, a Walther  
PPK. The agent told him that he would see what he could do and that  
Bond should expect the requested items sometime that evening.   
  
Sure enough, his "luggage" arrived at approximatly 7:30. Once they  
were delievered to his room, Bond emptied the bags, hanging the suits  
and shirts in the closet. He then removed the false bottom from the  
suitcase and extracted the gun, a holster, a pair of shoes and a necktie.  
He was happy to see that his new gun was indeed a Walther PPK.   
  
He examined the shoes and the tie, thinking back to when Major  
Boothroyd, head of Q branch and affectionatly known as Q, had  
explained how to use them in his lab at MI6.   
  
Their conversation had begun the way many of their conversations had  
over the years, with Q saying, "Now pay attention 007. These shoes are  
not only comfortable, they also carry a weapon."   
  
He removed the heel of the right shoe to reveal a small gun.   
  
Bond said, "Congratulations Q! I believe this is your greatest invention  
ever. You've developed a gun for Mickey Mouse."   
  
Q responded, "Oh grow up 007! Now, listen. This is a Derringer. We  
found that too often, agents were ending up weaponless. This was  
causing too many casualties in the field. Therefore, we developed this  
gun. It carries two shots. Also, as long as it is hidden in your heel, it  
cannot be detected by metal detectors. The heel of the left shoe contains  
24 spare bullets to reload with."   
  
"What are two bullets going to do, Q?", Bond asked.   
  
"Kill two people if you're a good shot, and I know you are."   
  
"Well, then, I suppose these shoes will take care of any heels that I run  
into."   
  
Q ignored the comment, and said, "Anyway, this tie is not only stylish  
but it also contains a set of lock picks in the seams which can open 99%  
of the world's locks. To get to the picks, all you need to do is pull on the  
tag. The seams will begin to unravel, revealing the lock picks. What do  
you say to that, 007?"   
  
Bond grinned and said, "I'd say I'm fit to be tied."   
  
"Really, 007! I may have a few more things completed in near future. if I  
think you can use them and return them in prestine working order, I'll  
send them to you."   
  
Bonds thoughts drifted from his encounter with Q to the problem at  
hand. He called room service and ordered a plate of scrambled eggs  
and a bottle of wine. While he was waiting for his food, he took two  
showers; a steaming hot one followed by an ice cold one. He found that  
this always refreshed him and helped him think. He stepped out of the  
shower and dried himself on a rough hotel towel. He wrapped the towel  
around his waist and stepped into the main room of his suite. He had  
just finished dressing in a pair of undershorts and a terry-cloth robe  
when there was a knock on the door. His food had arrived.   
  
He found to his dismay that the eggs were runny but was delighted by  
the excellent vintage of the wine. As he ate, he considered what he had  
seen earlier in the day concerning the kidnappings. When the cabbie had  
tried to abduct him, it had seemed like he was trying to take him to an  
old building near the market. Bond had two options. He could try and  
storm the building tomorrow; but that would certainly lead to shooting  
and Bond didn't want to face a whole army by himself. His other option  
was to allow himself to captured, knowing that they would be looking  
for wealthy, white, British men. This seemed like the more logical  
approach. As far as they knew, he was just a tourist. By letting them  
kidnap him, he could infiltrate their ranks and find out what their plans  
were. Then, he could use the lock picks in his tie to escape and report  
his findings to M. M would then send in a special missions force to  
round up the kidnappers and the mission would be over. Well, he was  
content that a plan had come together. He slipped the Walther under his  
pillow and laid down. As he drifted off to sleep that night only one thing  
bothered him; he didn't have to look for them tomorrow, they would be  
looking for him.   



	4. Chapeter 4

CHAPTER FOUR  
  
In the morning Bond arose, showering briskly, slipping into a light  
cotton suit. He picked up the phone ordering a light continental   
breakfast and a pot of hot coffee.  
  
Bond put the Walther into his holster and was about to slip it on  
when there was a gentle knock at the door. He threw the holstered gun  
onto the bed and opened the door.  
  
Instead of room service he saw a big gorilla of a man standing there   
with a gun in his hands. Before Bond could react he heard a silenced  
shot and felt a sharp pain in his left side. He staggered back as a  
second shot was fired. Bond felt numb and slipped to the floor as he   
started to lose consciousness.  
  
When Bond awoke, he thought he was at home, in bed, but then he  
remembered the hotel. But no hotel bed would give him a stiff back. He  
sat up and looked around. This was the slave ring jail cell!   
  
How did he get here? Who was he abducted by? He needed to find some answers,   
fast.   
  
There was another fellow in there with him. He looked a good deal like  
Bond, but had a beard and mustache. Anyway, it was time to open the  
door. It was a good thing Bond was still wearing his clothes, but why  
hadn't he been searched? He thanked God that his luck had held that  
far.  
  
He took the lock picks out of his tie and walked to the door of the dark  
cell. After messing with the lock, he heard a "click", and he got behind  
where the door would swing to. It opened, and the guard, obviously  
thinking only one was in the cell, took the man out. After the sound of  
footsteps had died down, Bond crept out.   
  
It was a dingy old hallway, and there was a window to look out of,  
covered with thick steel bars of course. He walked to it and looked out.  
A horrible scene spread before his eyes. All over men were being  
forced to cut rocks and test their strength. They were then put into three  
sections, according to strength. He could see they suspected nothing,  
and wouldn't miss one prisoner.   
  
He carefully, went down another hallway, expecting a door out  
somewhere. He finally came to one, and opened it. And there, facing  
him, were 2 giant guards, blocking the doorway, and beating Bond's  
cellmate. "Well Q, I hope you were right!", Bond said as he pulled his  
gun out of his shoe and nailed the 2 guards in the head, using 1 bullet  
each. He ran to the man and told him, "Tell no one about me, and I  
promise you, you will be rescued!"   
  
Bond couldn't tell what the man would do, but he had no choice. Bond  
ran and reloaded his gun as the sound of more guards came behind him.  
They couldn't know he was there! He spotted a door and quickly  
unlocked it with his locks picks. He then stepped outside.   
  
He saw he was back on the city streets, and could easily blend in with  
the crowd to escape. Yes! He had succesfully escaped! As he walked  
back to his hotel room, he heard a familiar voice from behind:   
  
"Hello Bond, it's me." Bond turned to see Mr. White.   



	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5  
  
Bond found himself staring down the barrel of Mr. White's pistol. He felt  
his heart sink. Dammit, he screamed inside of his head. Bond wanted to  
lurch forward and slap the gun away, but he wouldn't be fast enough.  
Mr. White was standing too far away. Mr. White quickly motioned for  
Bond to step into the nearby alley. White followed him, pistol raised.   
  
"Mr. White, hello," Bond said.   
  
"You can skip the pleasantries, Bond. You know why I'm here, don't  
you?"   
  
"To kill me, I assume?"   
  
White nodded. "I'm sure you remember the pearl handled PPK."   
  
"How could I forget? But no silencer this time, White?" Bond asked.   
  
"There's no need. The police here are fools they would never catch me  
after the shots are fired," White replied.   
  
"But before you kill me would you mind telling me how you escaped me  
that time we were on the cruise ship?" Bond asked with a raised  
eyebrow.   
  
"Well it was quite simple, really," White said with a smirk. "I was  
wearing a bullet proof vest beneath my suit. When I fell off the wave  
runner it came to a stop. I held my breath and hid underneath it until you  
went away. Then I swam back to the ship and hid in the engine room  
until we reached the first port."   
  
"Absolutely fabulous," Bond said, stalling for time.   
  
"Now you die, Bond. And then I become the most famous assasin in the  
entire wor-AAARRRRGGHH!"   
  
White's face contorted with pain. He suddenly fell to the ground, a  
smoking heap. Bond looked forward and saw a woman holding a cattle  
prod. One hand was against her hip, the other held the weapon. Her  
long black hair fell in sheets around her head. She was ravishing.   
  
"Thank you very much," Bond said, placing a hand against his fast  
beating heart. It was beating fast from fear of dying, rather than love for  
the woman.   
  
"You're very welcome Mr. Bond," she replied.   
  
"Is he dead?" Bond asked, pointing to White.   
  
"Oh yes. I set the prod to maximum voltage. Only someone with super  
human strength could survive that sort of electric shock."   
  
"Who are you? Did M send you?" Bond asked.   
  
"Why no, he didn't. In fact I work for that slavery ring you just escaped  
from. But now that I saved your life you are indebtted to me. You must  
do me a favor."   
  
"Certainly, Miss?"   
  
"Forester. Forester Loveless."   
  
"How can I assist you Miss Loveless?"   
  
"You must kill someone for me."   
  
"And who would that be?"   
  
"You'll find out in due time, Mr. Bond," Loveless said. She turned the  
voltage on the prod down to half and shoved the device into Bond's  
chest. He felt a current of electricity flow through him, moments before  
he went unconscious. 


	6. Chapter 6

  
  
  
CHAPTER 6  
  
Unknown Date  
Unknown Time  
  
Bond awoke with the sound of a creaking door and the silhouettes of  
two large men. The light flipped on, practically blinding him as the sun  
does. Each man pulled out a German Leuger pistol. As they cocked the  
weapons Forester Loveless entered through the creaky door.   
  
"Gentlemen, the weapons may go away. Do not let your intuitions set  
forward your future actions," she said.   
  
With her comments the men both placed their weapons into their  
pockets. She gave a strong hand symbol to one of the guards and to her  
advantage he brought a wooden chair from the corner of the room.  
"And now what shall we do with you?" She questioned with authority  
looking Bond straight in the eye.   
  
"What time is it," Bond asked searching for any clock of some sort that  
may be mounted on the sleek white marble walls.   
  
"Gentlemen, his watch," as she gave the command one of the men  
reached into his right pocket inside his jacket and pulled out Bonds time  
keeper. Bond looked at the time.   
  
"Eleven-hundred," he muttered sliding it onto his wrist.   
  
"Will there be any thing else Mr. Bond," she asked.   
  
"I would prefer just a drink," he then went on, "a vodka martini shaken  
not stirred."   
  
She snapped her fingers and spoke loudly to one of the men. The door  
creaked open and echoing footsteps were briefly ahead.   
  
As soon as his martini arrived he sat up sipping the drink quietly.   
  
"Who is this man you spoke of? Is it of great importance that he be  
killed?"   
  
"Mr. Bond, of great importance it is that he be killed." She then pressed  
a button on the wall to reveal some type of computerized dossier. The  
name Enrico Polanoa appeared along with a side and front profile of a  
grimy man with a white collar with black tie present.   
  
"He is the leader of the Morrocan slavery ring. I am his number two in  
command. I have gained great support from our buyers lately. I am  
planning to take over the entire operation, and I think he knows this.  
Therefore, he must die before he sends someone to kill me," Forester  
explained.   
  
"And when would this task be carried out? Are you supplied with the  
necessary equipment?"   
  
"This will be carried out later this evening. My two guards will escort  
you and make sure that the task is carried out. I have all the necessary  
equipment."   
  
Bond had finished his martini. She looked him straight in the eye and he  
realized what a specticle she was. She brushed his coma of black hair  
which had tendency to form over his right eye.   
  
"Now Mr. Bond you must rest. A strategic evening awaits you. When  
hunger strikes you, enter through the door and down the hall three doors  
to the right. Tell the chef I sent you."   
  
With her comments she began to walk to the door preparing to open it.  
"Oh and Mr. Bond," Bond looked up, "Good luck."   
  
Loveless and the two guards walked out, closing the door the glint of  
the marble fading slowly from sight as the lights went out. He then fell  
into a deep sleep.   
  
  
Bond awoke from his rest that lasted a good four hours. It had reached  
3:15 p.m. Bond had started to get hungry well before he'd awakened.  
He hadn't had lunch, so he went to the cafe and noticed the chef was a  
heavy brit at the height of five foot nine, and possibly two-hundred  
seventy pounds at weight. He had blond hair down to the back of his  
ears that seamed to have no order at all.   
  
Bond noticed him when he overheard his muttering of some kind of plan  
for world domination. At first, Bond had thought the chef was a nut. But  
he then felt he was overexaggerating. Maybe the chef was just muttering  
anything for no apparent reason. He decided he'd interrupt.   
  
"Excuse me, sir. My name is Bond. Miss Loveless sent me in here to eat  
something. And I'm sure you have something cooking back there. Or at  
least I hope."   
  
"Please, you can call me "High Leader of the Worl -" He paused to  
correct himself. "Or just call me Ken-Men." He continued: "Yes we  
have some of the best food you can find in the entire town. You name it,  
chances are we have it, Bond."   
  
"Is there some kind of menu that I can look at here, then," Bond asked.  
Ken-Men handed Bond a menu that reached close to two dozen pages  
long.   
  
It took Bond a little while to decide, but he decided to have chorbabil   
hamus, a spicy chickpea soup and bread, and he had a glass of mint tea  
to complete the meal.   
  
After the meal he asked for a Raki, which was an aniseed flavoured liquor  
brewed in locally but not drank by the strict Islamics of Morroco. He sat  
at the fancy table and looked at the cafe around him. The table was set for   
two people. Though there was a lamp almost perfectly above his table, Bond   
noticed an unlit white candle infront of him on the center of the table. He   
got out his match to light the candle. As he lit it, he stared into the single  
flame. He was astonished to see someone's very familiar face within the candle:   
his wife... Tracy. She stared back at him and he realised it's been so long   
since he'd seen her face, even a face he'd imagined was her's. He began to go   
into deep thought and depression when he was interrupted at the sight of another  
familiar face coming from behind the flame: Forester Loveless. He sat up  
and remembered his Raki, Bond took a sip. She sat across from him.   
  
"Hello, Mr. Bond. Enjoying the cafeteria?"   
  
"Please, James to you," Bond said back.   
  
"Well, James, it looks like we have approximately five and one half  
hours to be ready. It seems Enrico Polanoa is attending a party at a  
relative's mansion tonight at ten fifteen tonight. Are you a professional  
sniper, James?"   
  
Bond replied, "Well, if you believe sniping someone's arm is  
professional, yes."   
  
"Good. Because you'll be attending the party as David Knight. Then,  
when the clock strikes ten forty-five, you should be at your sniping post  
and be ready to kill Polanoa. I'll get deeper into the plan later, James.  
Do you understand?"   
  
Bond nodded and said yes. "Would you like a drink? I'll pay for it. It's the   
least I could do for you buying my food." Bond smiled at her.   
  
She replied, "I'd be delighted, James." And she smiled back.   
  
While she drank a Raki, wincing slightly at the taste at first, Bond looked   
around the cafe. He felt like he was being watched. When he looked up over the  
ceiling lamp, he noticed a mark of some sort. When Forester left, he drew the   
mark on a placemat from the table. He was sure to get some answers from this   
simple symbol: (+).   
  
He left the cafe. 


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7  
  
Same Day  
10:36 pm  
  
(+)? What did that mean? Bond was attending the party held by  
Enrico Polana. It was a large and exclusive affair. Loveless had used her  
advantages as the number two in the slave ring to get Bond on the guest  
list. There was no sign of the thousands of slaves laboring about the  
compound that Bond had witnessed earlier. He guessed that they had  
been hidden away in their cabins for the occasion or were serving  
cocktails and hors' devours to the guests.   
  
Moving through the crowd, Bond mingled well, keeping an eye on Forester.  
She was looking stunning in a backless dress, Bond looking his usual dashing  
self in a white dinner-jacket. The jacket was reversable, for when Bond needed  
to hide in the shadows later in the night.  
  
One of the waiters offered him a cocktail and Bond turned it down.  
Then Bond realized the face of the waiter, he was the man who Bond  
promised would be rescued in exchange for his silence. The waiter  
realized Bond, too. A flash of recognition came over his face that was  
followed by a glimmer of hope.   
  
"Don't worry, sir," Bond informed the waiter. More hope spilled over  
his bearded face. Bond distanced himself from the man to avoid  
attention. When ten feet away Bond glimpsed down at his Omega  
watch: 10:37. Bond thought it would be best to reach his post. The plan  
was supposed to be simple. He would reach the roof of a small,  
neglected nondescript building that had a perfect view of the courtyard  
in front of Polana's massive estate. On the roof there would be a folding  
laser-sight sniper rifle. At 10:45 precisely, he would assassinate the  
slave trader.   
  
Once the man was dead and the mission accomplished, Bond would  
escape through another neglected stairway and be escorted away from  
the scene of the assassination. The rifle was to be left on the roof. His  
exit strategy would the front entrance. How would he get the man out?  
A plan started forming in his mind: Dress the slave in a tuxedo so that he  
would slip out undetected. The hard part would possibly finding the  
man. Bond resolved to find him in his sights. Problem solved.   
  
He saw Loveless's two guards standing near the building he was to  
assassinate Enrico from. Before he was close enough to be suspicious, a  
man grabbed his arm.   
  
"I do not believe you have meet the Honorable Enrico Polana, have you,  
sir?" a friendly voice came from behind him. Bond turned to face the  
speaker. To the speaker's direct right was his quarry: Enrico Polana.  
Polana was a tall, muscular, olive-skinned man with a bushy mustache  
and the dark brown eyes. He was dressed in ceremonially military  
dress. In his right hand was a martini glass. The man had an unusually  
warm and friendly smile for a man who was supposed to be a heartless  
slave trader.   
  
"How are you, Mr.?" Polana asked. He paused for a moment, waiting  
for a response.   
  
"The name is David Knight," Bond responded politely, unusually for a  
man confronting his quarry. The man did not seem to register any  
hostility. Bond wondered if the compound had security cameras for if it  
had they would probably be searching frantically for him.   
  
"I'd hate to be rude, padrone, but I really must be leaving. It was a  
pleasure to meet you," Bond bid farewell to the slave trader. Before  
anyone else could destract him, he rushed over to the building that served  
as his post. The guards recognized him on sight for they opened the  
concealed entrance to the stairway. Bond raced up the stairs to the roof  
of the trashed building. He fixed the lapels and collars of his jacket to  
create a night camouflage uniform. Concealed behind a group of crates  
was the folding laser-sighted rifle. It took approximately thirty seconds  
to assemble the sniper rifle. He stole another glimpse at his  
wristwatch:10:44. he raised the rifle to his eyes and scanned the crowd.  
Polana was standing by his private pool with a blonde haired woman in  
a bikini. His watch starting beeping incessantly. Bond squeezed the  
trigger and the sniper's bullet erupted from the barrel. Polana was hit in  
the chest and as blood rushed onto his clothes he was pitched in the  
pool. Bond quickly disassembled the sniper's rifle and returned it to its  
hiding place. It was time to go. Bond searched one of the crates until he  
found what he was looking for: A tuxedo. He was about to escape  
through the stairs and then saw the guards rushing towards the building.  
He leapt off the roof and recovered from the fall. When he got up he  
raced towards the man he planned to keep his promise with. He  
reached the man and he standing amidst the crowds of panicked guests.  
He shoved the tuxedo into the man's arms.   
  
"Here you are! Change into this suit over by the bushes and hurry!  
Leave through the front gates," Bond instructed the now freed man. He  
was surprised and the elated.   
  
"Oh God! How am I to repay you?!" he offered. There was no time for  
this.   
  
"Don't think! Just run!" Bond ordered. He saw the man rush off into the  
bushes by the walls of the compounds. Then Bond started to rush  
towards the front gates. One of Loveless's guards jumped right in front  
of him. He had his Leugar extended and pointed at Bond's forehead.  
Bond saw something he never saw before: (+) was tattooed on the  
man's right forearm. My God! Bond thought. That symbol must be an  
identification of some sort! Bond looked around the corner of the  
building and saw the other guard, this one had an assassin's bullet in his  
forehead.   
  
"You monster! Loveless trusted you! He trusted you! I trusted you!  
What have you done, you turncoat?" Bond screamed.   
  
"Polana wishes to see you. The man you shot was just his double, a  
bodyguard. Nothing more. He knows that Loveless Forester hired you  
to make an attempt on his life. You will both be shot at an opportune  
moment," the guard snarled. Then an unseen attacker approached from  
behind him. Bond was about to turn around when an assassin struck the  
back of his skull with the butt of a rifle. A searing pain shot throughout  
Bond's body as he crumpled to the ground and finally, mercifully,  
passed out. The images of lovers from the past; especially Tracy, his  
one true love and wife who was murdered only after a few hours of their  
marriage by Ernst Stavro Blofeld. Everything went black, including the  
image of the traitorous guard standing above him. 


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8  
  
Bond awoke and found himself strapped to an operating table. He  
looked around and found Forester strapped to the table next to his.   
  
"One of your guards betrayed you. He killed the other one before  
capturing me-" Bond started before being interrupted.   
  
"I know that he did! He and Polanoa stormed my house and captured  
me, also. He was a plant the entire time. I feel like such a fool," she  
snapped. As soon as she finished the doors to the room opened and  
Polana and his entourage entered. It included the treacherous guard, a  
perverse-looking surgeon, and five of Polanoa's bodyguards.   
  
"Bond, Loveless. I would like to introduce you to Mr. Pahlavi, my real  
and loyal second-in-command, and Dr. Krupskova, a former and  
indicted KGB assassin. Krupskova, you see, hasn't assassinated anyone  
in a long time and I intend to let him do so. He enjoys his work like a  
child enjoying candy. He has a record for keeping his victims alive for  
exceptional periods of time. He has never failed an assignment for me  
ever since I employed him, way back in '89 when the fool Gorbachev  
started Glasnost, and he won't start now," Polanoa introduced the key  
members of his entourage.   
  
"There is a first time for everything, you know," Bond quipped.   
  
"I know. This will be the first time you've failed, Double-0-Seven,"  
Polanoa responded.   
  
"What do you plan to do, Polanoa? Throw our corpses in the ocean? I  
guarantee you that four days from now 008 will start where I left off,"  
Bond retaliated.   
  
"I shall have to dispose of him as well. I've had enough for one day. You  
may begin, Krupskova. Good night and rest in peace for all eternity,"  
Polanoa responded to Bond's threat. Krupskova began sharpening his  
scalpels and other tools.   
  
"Aren't you suppose to scrub in and administer anesthetics?" Bond  
quipped.   
  
"Not when the objective is torture and assassination," Krupskova  
remarked callously. He had the gleam in his eyes and the smile on his  
face that resembled a child receiving a much coveted present. While  
Krupskova busied himself with the tools, Bond banged his watch on the table,  
unraveled it, and retrieved the two lock picks he'd stored under the strap.   
He immediately set to work on the straps and his escape.   
  
"Start with me, Krupskova. I was the one who pulled the trigger," Bond  
attempted to divert Krupskova from "operating" on Forester.   
  
"I would usually ignore you, Bond, but in this case you are quite right,"  
Krupskova responded. He approached Bond with the scalpel raised  
high and smiling perversely.   
  
"The restraints-" Bond started.   
  
"Are the finest and toughest in the world, so shut up!" Krupskova  
interrupted.   
  
"Even so, I managed to pick them," Bond completed his sentence. With  
this Bond leapt from the table towards the little Russian surgeon.  
Krupskova's eyes and face were contorted by a sudden horror and he  
gasped. Bond stormed into action and reached for Krupskova's throat.  
The old man was no match for him. Even so, Krupskova landed a well  
placed kick in the groin and struggled to release himself. The mad  
assassin/surgeon dashed over to a small alarm towards the entrance of  
the room. Bond reached for a knife and on the table and threw it  
Krupskova. Krupskova froze in place as a animal-like scream died in  
his throat. Then the dead assassin crumpled to the floor.   
  
"With surgical precision," Bond quipped. Then he turned his attention to  
Forester, who was still strapped to the operating table.   
  
"You were wonderful, James!" she thanked him.   
  
"Don't thank me now," Bond replied. The two of them ran out of the  
room before anyone could find them.   
  
The duo of escapees crept along the darkened hallway, searching for  
any guards. Seeing that the coast was clear, Bond and Forester raced  
over to a pair of large French doors. They were about to continue when  
Forester and Bond heard voices coming from inside the room.   
  
"You see, Enrico, we have factions all over the world ready to pay  
millions, even billions, to purchase world policy! It is an enormously  
profitable market. The first diplomats proved that our current  
brainwashing methods were too effective, but now we have a method  
that can be considered mind-control. It may begin with just diplomats  
but very soon we shall abduct world leaders and even Heads-of-State!"  
they heard Pahlavi report in the room.   
  
"Very impressive, Pahlavi. Tell me, when can we expect the raids?"  
Polanoa questioned.   
  
"As early as tomorrow afternoon, sir! The buyers will converge here this  
Saturday, December eighth. All of the world leaders, and world policy,  
will be sold to the highest bidder. They've agreed to our conditions.  
When they return the politicos safely, we will get a commissin fee of  
their ransom. It's fixed at 15% right now but subject to change at the  
final trade. The higher the officials rank, the higher the starting price and  
commission. It's impregnable!" Pahlavi finished his report.   
  
"Most impressive. You're dismissed," Polanoa dismissed Pahlavi. Bond  
and Forester took this oppurtunity and dashed towards the end of the  
hallway and out of the concealed exit. Then they climbed over the walls  
and were free.   
  
In his office, Polanoa's telephone began ringing. It was an emergency.   
  
"Yes?" Polanoa answered.   
  
"Sir, Bond and Forester have escaped! Krupskova's dead! They could  
be anywhere!" the panicked guard studdered. The worse had  
happened, Polanoa thought. Could they know? He reached for his  
intercom and contacted Pahlavi.   
  
"Yes?" Pahlavi answered.   
  
"Bond and the girl are gone! I want you to find then and kill them,  
understood?" Polanoa ordered.   
  
"Of course, sir!" Pahlavi answered all too eagerly. Polanoa thought that  
Pahlavi would have to be eliminated after they had finished. He hung up  
and stared into space.   
  
You'll die someday, Bond, Polana thought. 


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9  
  
The harsh crunch of gravel beneath his shoes. His heart thumping loudly  
in his ears, deafening him. Sweat dripping down his forehead. All of  
these things were a distraction to Bond.   
  
He and Forester were crouched low behind a stone wall. On the  
opposite side was the mansion where the party was taking place. If one  
were to stand fully upright they would be at least one head taller than the  
stone wall.   
  
Forester was panting loudly. She moved a sweat soaked strand of hair  
out of her face and turned to Bond. "What do we do now?" she asked.   
  
Bond shrugged. He pulled off his tie and stuck it in his coat's inner  
pocket. Then he proceeded to undo the top two buttons of his shirt, in  
order to allow more air to circulate to his body. He knew heshould have  
given up smoking years ago' his oxygen starved lungs screaming for relief.  
  
"If we move again they may hear our footsteps on the gravel driveway,"  
Bond said.   
  
"But if we wait here any longer, then we could be spotted," Forester  
suggested.   
  
"We have to kill Polanoa," Bond said. "If we leave now we may never  
find him again . . . until its too late, anyway."   
  
"I know Polanoa too well, James. He is heavily guarded, and I'm sure  
he knows of our escape by now. We don't have any weapons and we  
don't have the element of surprise. We must leave now," Forester  
explained.   
  
"And how should we do that?" Bond asked with a cocked eyebrow.   
  
"Stealth," she replied quickly.   
  
"Stealth. What a novel idea," Bond said, as if never having considered that  
option before in most of his professional life.   
  
A moment later Forester was on the other side of the stone wall. She  
was on a well kept lawn. She eased onto her belly and began to crawl  
away from the mansion. Bond followed suit. They traveled for a long  
time and finally scaled a large fence before leaving Polanoa's property.  
About a minute after they were away a large party of armed men  
searched the compound and found nothing.   
  
  
  
"Damn, my things are all at the hotel and I have no way of ever getting  
them back," Bond grumbled.   
  
"You're right, James. Polanoa must have sent men to your hotel room by  
now . . . and my place has definetly been searched," Forester added  
glumly.   
  
"So tell me where you are from," Bond asked.   
  
"Holland, originally. Then I attended Oxford University, with a complete  
academic scholarship. Afterward I went on to Harvard Law School in  
the United States. I was recruited by the CIA, trained, then I  
disappeared and started working for the highest bidder," Forester  
explained.   
  
"I'm very impressed," Bond said. "And beautiful to boot. I bet my friend  
Felix Leiter at the CIA would be happy to know of your whereabouts."   
  
Felix Leiter was know working as an advisor on CIA missions after he had  
lost his hand and leg to a drug dealer he and Bond had apprihended. Felix  
had also lost his wife, as James had lost his wife. Bond had made sure   
that the man had paid for that, with his life.  
  
"I'm sure he would," said Forester with a sly grin. Her voice bringing Bond's   
thoughts to the here and now.  
  
They had escaped to the city. They went to the harbor and found a  
deserted area beneath one of the docks. Here they intended to spend  
the entire night. A full moon was shining and Bond could see the cold  
moonlight highlight Forester's exquisit face, and her beautiful dark hair.  
He felt his heart throb. She was one of the most breathtaking woman he had  
ever seen . . . nearly as beautiful than his late wife. He was eager to  
see how things would progress.   
  
Forester shivered. Bond removed his coat and wrapped it around her  
exposed shoulders. She thanked him and leaned back. Within moments  
she was asleep. Bond stood vigil over her that night, watching for  
Polanoa's men.   
  
They never came.   
  
  
  
Polanoa was in trouble. As he sat sipping tea in his office, he wondered  
how to kill James Bond. Pahlavi probably couldn't do it. This man,  
Bond, was too good. After he escaped Palanoa had his men dig up  
information on Bond. Polanoa had been shocked to see the record of  
the man who was his enemy. The number of experts who had tried to  
kill him and failed was amazing. The man didn't even take good care of  
his body, yet he was still alive and in incredible health. No, Pahlavi could  
try but he would die. What Polanoa could do was find someone the  
likes of whom Bond had never faced before.   
  
Then the idea came to him. Bond would surely return and try to kill him.  
He would have to set a trap for him here. And he knew just what to do.   
  
  
  
In the morning Bond was a tired man. He had been awake all night,  
standing guard. No one had found him yet. Whether he was going to  
walk into a trap trying to return and kill Polanoa or not, he knew he had  
to do it.   
  
Forester could help, but she would not be enough. Bond would have to  
find that fellow that he freed. Then at least he would have another man  
on his team. He would have to hurry, though. Soon, the world would be  
in criminal control. He had to stop that auction. The trouble would be  
trying to find him.   
  
  
  
Pahlavi was crouched down on a building overlooking the wharf. His  
sniper rifle was aiming for the back of Bond's head. Where everyone  
else failed, he would succeed. He would kill 007. He had a feeling of  
bliss run through him with this thought. Polanoa had an army of  
informants throughout the city. He simply paid them off to follow Bond's  
tracks. A white, British male and an attractive white woman in Morroco  
were quite easy to find. He was about to be victorious.   
  
And now all he had to do was pull the . . .   
  
Pahlavi never finished this thought as he was killed in the middle of it, by  
a certain unkillable Mr. White.  



	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10  
  
  
Bond walked out toward the pier. The place was already bustling with  
people. Bond was amazed that nobody had discovered either him or  
Forester when they spent the night beneath the dock. Bond breathed in  
the sea air and felt strange. As if somebody was watching him. After a  
few moments the feeling subsided. Bond couldn't understand why he  
had felt that way.   
  
He woke up Forester and they took to the streets. "First thing we have  
to do is contact my employers," Bond said.   
  
"Okay. We need a phone. There's a million of them on cruise ships. And  
it looks like a cruise ship is coming in to port," Forester said pointing to  
the ocean.   
  
Bond looked around and saw the giant Carnival Cruise Line ship at  
dock. It had been so obvious he hadn't even noticed it before. He  
headed toward the vessel and waved for Forester to follow him.   
  
On the ship Bond and Forester went up to the deck. Most of the  
passengers left during the day to explore the city, but there were always  
a few vain people left behind to work on their tans. There were two  
people on the deck, both women. Bond approached them and asked if  
they had a cellular phone. They did, but wouldn't give it to him. Bond  
laept forward and quickly chopped one girl on the neck, she passed out.  
Forester came from behind and did the same to the other woman before  
she could scream for help.   
  
Bond found the cell phone in the ladies things and dialed MI6's secure number.  
The voice on the other end spoke. ' Secure line access.'  
  
' This is Predator. Patch me through to M' Bond answered.  
  
Bond waited a second when he heard Moneypenny's voice on the line. "Moneypenny,   
its me, Bond," he said.   
  
"James, you haven't contacted us in days. We were getting worried  
about you," she squealed.   
  
"Sorry, no time to talk Moneypenny. Put me on with M," Bond  
explained.   
  
"Hello?" M asked to the phone.   
  
"Its 007. The plan has failed, the leader of the slave ring knows I'm after  
him. I've got someone from the inside working with me. All I need is for  
Q to send some more weapons to my location if possible," Bond  
explained.   
  
"I'll see what I can do," M said.   
  
Bond turned the phone off and threw it overboard. Into the ocean. He  
held Forester's hand, she looked at him, puzzled. "We must look like a  
happily married couple, tourists; not like a couple of nervous enemies of  
an international crime lord."   
  
"I see. Handsome and intelligent," Forester said.   
  
"Not that intelligent," Mr. White said as he came up the ramp and onto  
the deck of the ship.   
  
Bond and Forester were both stunned. They had seen him die of  
electrocution earlier in the week. "Well, well, well. You are a persistent  
bugger," Bond said.   
  
"Yes. I wanted to kill you to increase my business. I didn't care that  
much if you got away from me. But now I'm being employed to kill you,  
so I will make sure to do a thorough job of it," Mr. White said.   
  
He fired the pearl pistol and hit Forester in the stomach. She grunted  
and hunched over. "Noooooo," Bond screamed, lunging at Mr. White.   
  
He knocked Mr. White down. The PPK went skittering across the  
deck. Forester was moaning in pain. Bond dove for the gun as Mr.  
White punched him in the ribs. Bond scooped up the weapon and  
slammed it across Mr. White's face. Twice. Three times. Then, in rage,  
Bond pressed the muzzle to Mr. White's chest and fired three times. Mr.  
White jerked each time a bullet entered him. Bond was conviced he was  
dead as he saw red blood staining the fine white suit.   
  
"Guards are coming," Bond muttered. He tossed the PPK overboard as  
well. Then he grabbed Forester and carried her over his shoulder off of  
the cruise ship. He had to find a doctor quickly. Forester was bleeding   
heavily from the gut shot.It was a slow, painful way to die. She probably  
had 24 to 36 hours to live.   
  
"James, did you get him?" Forester asked weakly.   
  
"Yes, he's dead," Bond replied.   
  
"Am I going to die?" she coughed.   
  
"No. You've got plenty of time and your wound isn't that bad. You're  
going to be just fine," he said moving quickly across the dock and into  
the city.   
  
Back on the deck of the ship Mr. White sat up straight. He opened his  
shirt and looked at the bullet proof vest which had saved his life twice  
now against Bond. A blood pack had been strapped across the front to  
simulate a wound in case he had been shot. It worked beautifully. It had  
fooled Bond.   
  
Now he would have to clean up his clothes and go fishing in the ocean  
for his pistol. That part really annoyed him. When Mr. White had his  
chance he was sure Bond was going to die screaming. 


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11  
  
"You failed, Mr. White," Enrico Polana reprimanded his assassin.   
  
"Bond is somewhat of a nuisance. He escaped several times," Mr.  
White ensured his employer.   
  
"Next time must be different. I have come up with a new job for you  
and it will suit you well. We both want Bond dead, for Bond surviving is  
bad for our respective businesses. If you succeed in this operation,  
Bond will almost certainly come to you instead you having to chase  
Bond all over the city of Rabat. If you fail I'll have to terminate you,"  
Polana remarked coolly. Mr. White swallowed and beads of sweat  
started forming on his forehead. Polana didn't care one way or the  
other.   
  
"What is this job that you speak so highly of?" Mr. White snapped.   
  
"Patience is a virtue, you should know," Polana commanded. He paused  
for a moment before continuing.   
  
"The mission is the abduction of Sir Miles Messervy, a.k.a. M., and his  
secretary, Miss Moneypenny,"Polana resumed his briefing. Mr. White's  
mouth dropped and he gasped.   
  
"I certainly hope it isn't too much for you to handle, considering your  
reaction," Polana sounded concerned.   
  
"What? Of course not! I after all, managed to assassinate the American  
President in Los Alamos," Mr. White boasted.   
  
"I know. That was one of your business credentials," Polana remarked.   
  
"Anyway, when do you want the mission to be carried out?" Mr. White  
questioned.   
  
"If it isn't done in twenty-four hours, it will be a failure," Polana  
remarked.   
  
"Consider them captured and put away," Mr. White responded.   
  
"Good. The price is fifty million dollars, is that suitable?" Polana offered.  
Mr.. White once again to be in a trance by the sum of money.   
  
"Oh, yes," Mr. White responded after coming out of the trance. Then  
after their business was complete, both men exited the warehouse in the  
industrial section of Rabat.   
  
  
  
London, England  
Twelve hours later  
  
M was filing through Double-O-Seven's report on the Moroccan slave  
ring. Their diplomatic project was already under way since the Russian,  
Chinese, German, Israeli, French, Japanese, British, and American  
Heads-of-State/Government had been abducted while attending a  
convention on international space travel. Commandos had stormed the  
building in Cologne and taken each and every leader hostage. They  
were then shuffled onto a large transport helicopter and flown away to  
Morocco. Similar abductions had taken place around the world. They  
were no doubt the work of Polana and his slave ring.   
  
M and the Defense Minster had assigned all of the 00s that were not  
already in the field to Morocco to rescue the leaders and annihilate the  
slave ring. CIA and other clandestine groups were also acting. M was in  
the middle of another thought when a loud crash or explosion erupted  
from another corridor. Moneypenny rushed inside his office.   
  
"There's an attack, sir!" she cried. Moments later, two more bodyguards  
rushed inside his office.   
  
"We've got to get you to safety, sir!" the first one shouted. The group  
started rushing towards an emergency exit that was concealed beneath a  
portrait of Wellington. Suddenly the door opened before them and the pale  
apparition of Mr. White approached. The assassin fired two shots in the head  
of each of the bodyguards with his pearl-handled Walther PPK that he  
fished out of the harbor of Rabat.   
  
"I hope you weren't planning on going somewhere!" he snapped to the  
terrified M and Moneypenny. Then he reached into his belt and sprayed  
a thick gas into their faces. Both of them fell unconscious and Mr.  
White dragged both of them over to the window where the view of  
London was so serene that one would have never guessed about the  
crisis. Then he placed some plastique explosives on the center of the  
window. The window was blown in two seconds. Mr. White's  
helicoptor delivered two harnesses to the assassin. Mr. White strapped  
Moneypenny into the first harness and M into the second. Then he  
leaned out the window and gave the helicoptor the thumbs up and the  
two members of MI6 were reeled towards the waiting helicoptor. After  
the quarry was secure in the helicoptor, the pilot positioned the attack  
helicopter in front of the window and Mr. White boarded. Moments  
later more guards flooded into the room and the first one was cut down  
by two shots from Mr. White's Walther.   
  
  
  
"I'm incredibly pleased with your success, Mr. White. You managed to  
infiltrate MI6 and escape with M and his secretary. But then again I  
suppose it is simple child's play for the likes of you, who managed to  
infiltrate Los Alamos and shoot the President. Your fifty million dollars,  
in cash I might add, is waiting for you at my private airfield," Enrico  
Polana congratulated his hired gun over the Atlantic in his private jet on  
his success from his mansion in Morocco.   
  
"I'm currently over Gibraltar so I should be there in no more than one  
hour. Both of them are unharmed, although I used stun gas to knock  
them so they'd be easier to transport," Mr. White reported.   
  
"Of course," Polana understood.   
  
"Polana, do you still want me to get rid of Bond or can your slave ring  
handle him?" Mr. White inquired. He heard Polana mumble something  
and then silence.   
  
"Listen, Mr. White. I have a generous business preposition for you.  
What if you were to join my organization as a permenant assistant. The  
salary is incredible and you may continue free-lancing with my approval.  
Housing is splendid and you will never be without pay," Polana offered.   
  
"I would appreciate such a position," Mr. White accepted.   
  
"Splendid!" Polana jovially remarked. Then it was time for more  
pressing issues.   
  
"I have set a trap for Bond. You see, tomorrow I'm planning to have the  
biggest slave auction ever. Except instead of labourers, it will be  
government leaders. Anyway, if Bond wishes to save his friends, he  
must come to this meeting tommorrow. There, you will assassinate him  
and the girl. M and Moneypenny will be kept alive until we have  
obtained all of the secrets we want. Then you shall dispose of them as  
well. After this, you will become under my employ. Does it all sound all  
right for you?" Polana informed him.   
  
"It will done straight by the book," Mr. White promised.   
  
"Good," Polana remarked and then hung up. There was a large grin on  
his face as he thought about all the sadistic things he would do Bond and  
the traitor, Forester. Mr. White was also pleased. For soon he would kill  
007, James Bond. 


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12  
  
Mr. White stepped onto the airfield where he was greated by one of  
Polanoa's low level henchmen. To the right he saw his hostages being  
carried away. The henchman was pulling a hotel luggage cart with four  
metal briefcases attached to it.   
  
"This is the money Mr. Polanoa requested be given to you, sir," the  
man said.   
  
"Good. Load it on to the plane," Mr. White said.   
  
"Yes, sir," the henchman said and then wheeled the cart toward the  
plane which was still running.   
  
Mr. White pulled out his cell phone and dialed Polanoa. He got the  
secretary instead. "He's not available, even for me? Okay. Well tell him  
that I've decided to take the weekend off and spend some of my  
money. Just to make sure its real before I go into permanent business  
with him."   
  
  
  
Nassau, Bahamas  
Two days later  
  
Instead of spending time at the beach Mr. White was in a cramped,  
steamy apartment. Two other men in low-cut Hawaiian shirts stood  
before him. He knew they both had back-up's, the CIA rarely worked  
with known International criminals without plenty of protection.   
  
Still, Mr. White didn't care. He was quick with his wits and his mind. He  
wasn't worried about a few United States agents, he'd bested them  
before.   
  
"All right Mr. White we've contacted the national office. Half of the fifty  
million dollars will be deposited into two Swiss bank accounts. Once we  
move in and apprehend Polanoa the other half will be deposited into  
another two Swiss bank accounts," one of the CIA men said.   
  
"And how can I be certain the money won't be internationally flagged?"  
Mr. White asked leaning back in his seat, hoping the butt of the Pearl  
Handled Walther was visible.   
  
"You don't need to worry, the government won't miss that money.  
We've been after Polanoa forever. This is the first we've heard from him  
in eighteen years. We'll just blame the missing funds on the military like  
we always do. Its common CIA proceedure," the CIA man explained.   
  
"Good. So one week from today Polanoa will be captured and I will be  
fifty million dollars richer," Mr. White said with a laughed.   
  
Everything was going to be played by the book, only by Mr. White's  
book. His book included the ancient art of the double-cross; something  
Polanoa wouldn't dream of doing. And as for Bond, Mr. White didn't  
care any more. If Bond were to survive the entire ordeal Mr. White may  
decide to hunt him for sport. Until then he had to mascarade around  
Polanoa until the CIA arrived.   
  
  
  
  
Two Days Later, Saturday Evening  
  
The tape had arrived at the front desk and was given to Bond when he  
first checked in. Forester was upstairs resting after the bullet was  
removed. The doctors said nothing had been damaged seriously and  
Forester was out of the hospital two days later. They had checked into  
the Du Pont under the alias of Wolfgang and Gisela Schaffer, a  
newlywed couple on their honeymoon from Munich. When the checked  
in they wore minor disguises to throw off anyone looking for James  
Bond and Forester Loveless. The tape read simply-SATURDAY  
NIGHT. Immediately Bond's pulse began to race. Wasn't the diplomatic  
auction being held tonight at Polana's mansion?   
  
Bond couldn't get to his room fast enough. He knocked over a French  
woman as he raced towards his room. She cursed at him in French. He  
fumbled with the electronic key and the door opened up. The room was  
dark and Forester was in the other room. But she heard him.   
  
"James, is that you?" she asked softly. Bond handed her an antibiotic  
and she turned it away.   
  
"I already took one," she told him calmly. Then he walked into he main  
room of their hotel suite and popped the cassette into the VCR. An  
image of Moneypenny and M, both drugged and slouched over a chair,  
appeared. Then Polana appeared. He seemed to smile with his  
accomplishment.   
  
"This is going to be simple, Bond. You must come to my mansion  
tonight, unarmed. If you are armed, they will die. I look forward to  
seeing you tonight," the criminal sneered. Forester must have heard him  
since she started whimpering in her sleep. It went unnoticed by Bond  
since he stared in horror at the screen. It was unthinkable. M was so  
much like the father he never had and Moneypenny, Oh God!  
Moneypenny! What would he do if he allowed anything to happen to  
her? Polanoa would die for this and, if they were harmed, he would die  
a death unimaginable.   
  
Someone at the door knocked. Bond reached for his Walther and  
unlocked the safety. He approached the door and opened it. There was  
a figure in the hallway, standing there. Bond grabbed him and threw him  
across the suite. Then he turned on the room lights and there was Q,  
lying on the floor.   
  
"Must I remind you that your license to kill is not redeemable on  
unarmed senior citizens?" Q said wearily.   
  
"Sorry, about that, Q," Bond apologized.   
  
"I hope you are for once," Q replied. Bond gave Q a hand and helped  
him up. Q brushed himself off and looked annoyed as hell. There was a  
briefcase five feet away; Q dropped it when Bond hurled him through  
the air.   
  
"I have all of your equipment ready for you and you better bring it back  
in pristine condition. Explosives. This gun may not look like much but it  
is the latest in plastique explosives. The detonator is this small button  
and is remote. The remote for the explosives is in this wristwatch. For  
weapons you have this brand new Walther P5Ps. It is a state-of-the-art  
handgun with an eighteen round clip and one round in the chamber.  
Silencer is here. Here are five extra clips of ammo. To record  
everything in the complex, we are giving you this camera headset with  
audio and infrared. The headset is also a direct link to base. Here is a  
spy camera. The usual. For cutting we are giving you this key ring with a  
laser built-in; the key-ring also comes with a strong photonic flash  
capable of blinding and incapacatating anyone for twenty seconds. To  
protect yourselves I suggest you wear these goggles. That should be  
about it. Good evening. During your mission I shall be at Homebase.  
Until then, farewell," Q started towards the door.   
  
"Be careful, Q. I'd hate to not have all of these fantastic gadgets in the  
field," Bond cautioned Q.   
  
"Why? So you can destroy them on purpose? Anyway, I have an escort  
from Station C with me," Q assured the agent and then went on his way.  
After Q as gone, Bond went into Forester's room.   
  
"James, is everything alright?" Forester asked.   
  
"Of course it is," Bond assured her. She turned over in her sleep,  
knowing that it was all right. While she was resting, Bond started  
preparing his equipment for the mission. He stripped out of his street  
clothes and put on mission camouflage. He placed the key ring and  
camera in his pocket and the gun, headset, and plastique in a pouch  
around his waist. Then he looked at Forester and walked over to her  
bed. Then he placed a kiss on her forehead. Then he headed towards  
the telephone. He dialed the number of Station C and requested a  
bodyguard for Forester. He was told one would be over in five minutes.  
They were right. In less than five minutes a man from Station C, armed  
with an automatic, arrived and relieved him of his duty of protecting  
Forester. With one final glimpse, he left.   
  
Bond wore a khaki trenchcoat over his camouflage as he walked down  
the hallway of the hotel. Instead of the guest elevator, he took the  
service lift. At the basement there was a black Land Rover from Station  
C waiting for him. There were no spoken instructions, both knew their  
destination. The driver started up the engine and they drove off into the  
evening of Rabat.   
  
  
  
The Land Rover dropped Bond off approximately a mile away from  
Polana's mansion. Bond crept along the high stone wall until he reached  
a tree. Then he climbed up this tree and threw his pouch of weapons  
over to the other side. He took a quick surveillance of the area and  
memorized the spot. Bond would return to his pouch after he rescued M  
and Moneypenny. After he climbed down the tree he threw his arms up  
in a gesture of surrender and approached the entrance. Polana was  
standing right up front, waiting for him. He was joined by twelve of his  
guards, all armed with Uzis. The was a smile on Polanoa's face. He was  
enjoying Bond's surrender.   
  
"You are almost late and if you were late I would be forced to kill  
them," Polana sneered.   
  
"You wouldn't gain anything, Polanoa," Bond retorted.   
  
"To the contrary, Mr. Bond. I would have eliminated the head of MI6  
and have you in my power. That is quite a gain," Polanoa laughed.   
  
"So where are they?" Bond demanded.   
  
"You'll join them soon enough!" Polanoa snapped. After he finished one  
his henchmen smashed his gun into the back of Bond's skull. There was  
a searing pain and a sea of blakcness engulfed him. Images of Jill  
Masterton, Pussy Galore, Gala Brand, Tracy di Vicenzo, and Flicka  
von Frusse, all former lovers, passed before him. A picture of Forester,  
sleeping peacefully, was the last to fly before his eyes. Then it all went  
out.   



	13. Chapter 13

  
CHAPTER 13  
  
"He's waking up," said a familiar voice, as Bond groaned beginging  
to regain conciousness. He opened his eyes, only to find he was tied   
to a hard, wooden chair with ropes around his waist and his hands   
behind his back. His head was throbbing from the blow. In front of him was   
a rusty iron cell door. To his left, as his vision began to clear, he also   
saw M and Moneypenny blindfloded tied to chairs in a similar fashion.   
  
"I thought you'd never come to, James," said Moneypenny. She  
sounded weary.   
  
"Well, now that I have, would you mind telling me where we are?" Bond  
asked. Escaping was the last thing that he felt like doing because of his  
headache, but he new it had to be done soon, before Polanoa realised  
he had awoken.   
  
A door creaked. Too late. Polanoa entered, flanked by Mr. White and  
four armed guards. Bond and White exchanged cold stares.   
  
Polanoa broke the silence. "Good morning, Mr. Bond. I trust you  
enjoyed your sleep." His sarcasm was barely detectable.   
  
007 tried to loosen his bonds, but to no avail. Whoever tied them knew  
what they were doing. His best bet was the key ring, which was  
unreachable in his front pocket.   
  
"Unfortunately, 007, I have no reason to keep you alive," growled  
Polanoa. "Guards-"   
  
"Wait," interrupted Bond, "I beg to differ. During my last visit, I planted  
plastique around this complex. The men at Station C have been  
instructed to detonate these explosives by remote should anything  
happen to me. If I disarm the explosives, will you promise that no harm  
will come to M and Moneypenny?"   
  
Mr White spoke, "He's bluffing, there's no-"   
  
"Quiet!" interrupted Polanoa. "You may be right, but we should still do  
what he says, even if it is only as a final courtesy."   
  
"I'm glad you see the sense of things," said Bond. "Mr White, would you  
be so kind as to reach into my front left pocket and find my key ring."  
Mr White followed the instructions, waiting for it to explode.   
  
"How does it work?" enquired Polanoa.   
  
"Release the other two and I'll tell you," said Bond.   
  
"Do it," Polanoa instructed his guards.   
  
When they were untied, Bond told Mr. White, "Push the button on the  
back three times."   
  
Bond shielded his eyes. The room was filled with a brilliant flash. He  
opened his eyes to see Polanoa and his henchmen covering their eyes,  
blinded by the flash, and M, with his blindfold removed picking up the  
key ring.   
  
"Push the front button and use the laser to remove the ropes," Bond told  
M.   
  
M did so, for once taking orders from 007. As soon as he was freed,  
Bond grabbed an AK47 from one of the blinded guards and filled each  
guard with lead. As the last guard fell to the floor dead, Bond felt cold  
steel pressed against his neck.   
  
"Put your hands above your head and turn around slowly," said Mr  
White, having recovered from the effects of the photogenic flash, and  
not terribly happy about it. The PPK was an excellent way of getting  
Bond's attention, but he knew he had nothing to worry about, yet.  
Polanoa was just in front of him, holding a Colt Defender .45 pistol, and  
still blind. It took only a moment for Bond to push away Mr. White's  
pistol, and grab Polanoa's gun. Mr. White, however, was definitely a  
professional. Before Bond caught turn around, he had already pulled the  
trigger.   
  
Click. Gun jam. Bond turned to see Mr. White throw the gun at his  
head. Bond ducked, and pointed the Colt at him.   
  
"M, Moneypenny, get moving. I'll catch up with you when I'm done  
here," said James.   
  
"Do be careful, James," said Moneypenny, as she exited.   
  
Just as they left, an alarm went off.   
  
"Forgive me, gentlemen," said Bond smugly, "but I must be leaving. I  
hope we can continue this jolly little conversation some other time."   
  
He sped out, armed with the Colt, and ran for the nearest stairwell. He  
had to find his gear and get out. But what chance did he have in the  
Eagle's Nest? 


	14. Chapter 14

  
Chapter 14  
  
Too many things to do, and not enough time to do them. The klaxons  
were blaring in Bond's ears, and he was anxious. He had to rescue the  
diplomats, find his explosives, and take out Polanoa. No doubt more  
guards were on the way and Mr. White was hot on his trail.   
  
Bond ascended the stairs, knowing he'd be a bigger threat with the  
plastique and the special gun Q had given him. All he had to do was  
reach the rooftop where he had secured his gear.   
  
In the stairwell he was almost to the top when a door (one floor below)  
opened up. Bond looked down and saw two guards racing up the stairs.  
With the Colt he aimed down and fired. He missed. Bond managed to  
duck away in time as the guards fired back with their own sub-machine  
guns.   
  
Bond decided against the fire fight. They had more ammo and would  
win. He continued up the stairs, one more flight, until he reached the  
rooftop.   
  
Outside the wind was rippling. His hair was ruffled and his clothes  
whipped back and forth around his body. He proceeded to the  
memorized place where he had stowed his gear. Briefly the night sky  
was illuminated. Bond turned around and saw fire flicking out of the  
sub-machine guns. The same two guards from before.   
  
Bond dove backward, firing the Colt as many times as he could pull the  
trigger. One of the guards went down. As he was dying he fired his  
weapon, but as his body fell down he only hit the other guard.   
  
"Nothing like a two for one offer," Bond quipped.   
  
He stood back up and continued toward the bag, which was now in  
sight. As he reached to pick it up a stream of bullets strafed the floor  
before him. Bond whipped around, pistol raised and saw Mr. White.   
  
"Tired of using that old Walther?" Bond asked, noting Mr. White's  
AR11 Assault Rifle.   
  
"It never did too well against you, Mr. Bond. So I thought this weapon  
would work much better," he replied. "But you've got no girlfriend to  
save you now."   
  
Bond raised the Colt and Mr. White laughed. ' You don't have any ammo  
left, Bond.'  
  
Bond fired the Colt and hit Mr. White in the left thigh. He dropped to  
one knee screaming, "You son of a bitch! Just for that you'll die  
screaming!"   
  
"You first," Bond said.   
  
Before he could get off a shot, suddenly Mr. White's body was engulfed  
in flames. A giant roar ripped across the night sky, and Bond dropped  
flat from the shockwave of the explosion. Bond looked up and saw  
three assault helicopters circling the Polanoa compound.   
  
"Ahoy, Jimbo," a familiar voice said from the lead helicopter's  
megaphone.   
  
"Wade, is that you?" Bond yelled.   
  
"Yes. And lucky for you Mr. White told us where Polanoa's hideout  
was. But we weren't about to let him get away with HIS crimes. So we  
took him out just in the nick of time. You can thank me later," Wade said.  
  
Then Bond heard more gunfire. He peered over the side of the building  
to see what was happening. Dozens of Polanoa's men, armed with  
sub-machine guns were pouring out of the building, firing at the CIA  
helicopters. As that was happening, an equal amount of CIA agents  
rappelled out of the helicopters. A huge war between the two sides  
began.   
  
"This distraction should give me enough time to find the diplomats,"  
Bond said. 


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15  
  
Bond grabbed the plastique and the rest of his gear and went off to find  
the diplomats. He used a climbing wire to propel down the wall to find  
the window with the auction and diplomats. On the fourth floor there  
was a large bank of windows looking inside to an immense chamber  
filled with more than a hundred terrorists and others. Revolutionaries,  
gangsters, drug lords, mercenaries, fanatics, and others all crowded  
around a large circular table. Without hesitation Bond threw a plastique  
explosive onto the armored window and climbed up to the roof. Ten  
seconds later there was an explosion which rattled the entire mansion  
and shards of glass erupted into the night sky.   
  
Bond signaled Wade's chopper to the room with the terrorists. A few   
moments later, the gunshots of the machine guns on the helicopter verses  
the pitiful automatics of the terrorists filled the night. It was not a  
competition. Wade directed his helicopter elsewhere and gave Bond the  
thumbs up. He climbed down into the window and rushed past the  
mutilated bodies of the terrorists. He lifted the assault rifle off one the men,  
an Eastern Europe revolutionary by the looks of his remains. One of the  
men was still alive and raised his handgun at Bond. Bond blew him away  
before he could even aim. As Bond surveyed the grave yard, he realized  
that Enrico Polanoa had escaped. He was still to be found.   
  
Then he walked out the door and into the corridor, which looked like a  
killing field with all of Polanoa's men strewn around the ground. Bond  
stepped over the corpses and made his way to the stairs and down to  
the third floor. He heard gunshots coming from another part of the level and  
realized that the commandos hadn't yet cleared the third floor. He would  
have to be much more alert as he tried to rescue the diplomats.   
  
There was one guard at the base of the staircase. The man wasn't  
looking for people coming down and since Bond was silent he was able  
to take him out without much resistance. The gunfire only alerted other  
guards and shouts came from other parts of the house. Bond didn't  
waste any time looking around. Bond peaked around the corner and  
searched for the room with the leaders. He was certain the diplomats  
would be in a room with guards out front and with multiple locks. Such  
a room was at the end of the corridor, with five guards and two locks.  
Bond raised his key-ring and fired the flash and blinded the guards.  
Then he put bullets in everyone one of them. There was no other guards  
within earshot so the rest of the rescue would be fairly simple. There  
were two titanium locks that Bond needed to cut. He fired up the laser  
and started cutting. Two of Polanoa's guards appeared at the end of the  
corridor.   
  
Bond knew it was over. The two men raised their rifles and Bond shut  
his eyes. Make it quick, he thought. Bbbrrraaattt. There was no searing  
pain of bullets or the light. Bond opened his eyes and saw Felix Leiter,  
with a submachine gun in his prosthetic arm.   
  
"Fashionably late?" Bond quipped, happy to see Felix back in the field.  
again. And what good timing, Bond thought. Then he resumed cutting the locks.  
Ten more commandos entered the corridor and rushed over to Bond's  
aid. The first lock was broken. Three more of Polana's guards came into  
the corridor and were gunned down. Time was running short. The  
second lock was broken. Bond pushed the door open and the  
commandos rushed in after Bond. All of the diplomats lay on the floor  
with their arms over their heads.   
  
"It's okay! We're here to rescue you!" Leiter calmed the frightened  
diplomats. The diplomats started shuffling out of their cell and the  
commandos covered the diplomats. The commandos and Leiter  
directed the diplomats upstairs to the waiting helicopters. Polanoa's  
guards followed them. Many of the guards were cut down by machine  
gunfire. Two of the commandos dropped to the ground and tumbled  
down the stairs. Bond surveyed the carnage of the third floor. Polanoa's  
men were scattered all over the place, slouched against the walls,  
folded over furniture. The white walls everywhere were covered in  
blood and bullets punctured the walls. Bond raced up the stairs,  
followed by Leiter.   
  
The fourth floor was also a hell on earth, complete with carnage. The  
scene from the third floor repeated itself. Bond followed everyone up  
the stairs. Five guards ran up right behind Bond, all armed with Kalishinkovs  
in their hands. Bond spun around in a 180 degree circle on his foot and  
opened the fire. The noise of his assault rifle drowned out the screams of  
the men. Bond stood in place for a moment until Leiter tugged his arm.   
  
"Come on! The HMS Defiant is waiting in the Mediterranean and in ten  
minutes a Scorpius cruise missile will annilihate everything!" he warned.  
Bond broke out of his trance and rushed up the stairs along with the rest  
of the group. Bond realized that even though Leiter had been fed to sharks a  
long time ago, he was still an active person. More of Polanoa's men  
started rushing after them. Leiter ran out onto the roof. The night would  
have been windy enough even without the transport helicoptors waiting  
on the ground. The wind not only tore at Bond's hair and clothing, but  
made it difficult to walk. The diplomats were having this trouble also, as  
they shielded their faces while boarding the helicoptors. Bond started  
shoving crates and barrels in the way of the door, creating a barricade.  
No sooner had Bond placed the second barrel against the door did the  
guards start trying to knock it down. Bond, Felix, and five other soldiers  
pushed heavy crates and barrels in front of the door until they were  
certain it would hold.   
  
By the time they were finished, most of the helicoptors carrying  
dilplomats had left. Two more helicoptors were waiting. Felix ran over  
to the first one and jumped into the pilot's seat. Bond and the other  
soldiers boarded the remaining helicoptor. The second one was  
overcrowded so Bond forced to sit on the floor. Both helicoptors took  
off and flew off to the British radar installation on the Rock of Gibraltar.  
Gibraltar made Bond remember Richard Dodd 004, who died during a  
training execise in the radar installation. It also made him remember the  
anonymous assassin. Bond realized that it would be a long flight to  
Gibraltar so shut his eyes and went to sleep. 


	16. Chapter 16-Final Chapter

Chapter 16  
  
As Bond sat in the helicopter, he started thinking about all the death he  
had just caused and seen. But something was not right. Guards who are  
just working for pay don't show that kind of devotion. They realistically  
would have run in terror before they would die. He knew that there had  
to be a bigger reason why they would keep on fighting. Some sort of  
bigger cause. What was going on here?  
  
  
  
Forrester sat up. She was feeling better now. She was just worried  
about James. Her bodyguard was in the next room. He had been mostly  
silent for some time. In fact, he had been to silent. With all her strength,  
Forrester got out of bed and went into the next room. Then she  
screamed in horror.  
  
  
  
Polanoa sat smirking in a car outside the hotel. An unconsious Forrester  
Loveless was in the back. They had killed the guard and taken her. It  
was the obvious first thing to do with his knowledge of where they were  
from their paid informants around town. He had some surviving guards,  
so he did it. He had pulled it of. He had the girl, so Bond was in his  
power. He had made it looked like he was a simple villian who just  
wanted a lot of money. They all had no idea what he was really after.  
No idea at all.   
  
  
  
One of the SAS men started tapping Bond on the shoulder.   
  
"Time to rise, chap," the young man with a Liverpool accent reminded  
the weary Bond.   
  
"What?" Bond was too weary to comprehend.   
  
"Look! We're right above the radar installation. You don't want all of  
those diplomats to rush over to this helicopter and find you sound  
asleep? It'd be bad press for Her Majesty," he reminded Bond of where  
he was. Bond looked out of the window and saw the radar installation,  
complete with diplomats from all countries and the Special Air Service.  
Every one of them was waiting for the helicopters to land and give Bond  
and Leiter, the masterminds of this escape, a celebratory greeting. Bond  
wasn't in that mood right now; he just wanted to see Forester right now.  
Later he'd accept all of those marches and decorations. Bond noticed  
that M was right beside the helicopter pad, with a crumpled fax in his  
left hand. It wasn't the usual smile of gratitude he'd expect after Bond  
and company saved the world from an unimaginable fate. Something  
was wrong.   
  
The helicopter landed and M rushed up to it. The diplomats weren't far  
behind. Men and women of all nationalities rushed over to the helicopter  
to congratulate Bond, Leiter, and the commandos. Bond stepped out of  
the helicopter and faced M.   
  
"I have bad news. Forester was abducted from her hotel in Morocco.  
The man from Station C is dead. We know Polana has her. We  
received this fax from Polanoa. It reads that unless you arrive at  
Polanoa's Gibraltar getaway, her head will be shipped back to you in  
small pieces. That's as according to the fax," M brought him the  
ultimatum. It call hit Bond like a bag of bricks. All he could do was stare  
at the ground and fear the worst. The fates of Tracy di Vicenzo,  
Fredericka von Grusse, and Akiko Wakabayashi all came into his mind.  
At once he reprimanded himself for falling in love with both country and  
women. Then he stepped into action.   
  
Bond rushed over to Felix, who was currently receiving the many thanks  
of the Bundesrepublik Deutschland , and pulled him away from the representative.   
  
"James, what are you doing?" Felix demanded. There was shock and  
venom in his voice.   
  
"Polanoa is holding Forester hostage!" Bond responded.   
  
"Forester Loveless?" Felix didn't believe him it sounded like.   
  
"Yes. They killed her bodyguard and-" Bond informed the man from  
Pinkerton's Detective Agency.   
  
"James, Forester was killed in a car wreck in Paris five years ago-" Felix  
started.   
  
"No, she pulled a double bluff, Felix. We don't have time," Bond snapped.   
Both men boarded awaiting helicopter. Felix started piloting the helicopter.   
The helicopter raised to about one hundred feet above the landing pad before heading  
towards Polanoa's secret Gibraltar hideout. The helicopter flew over the  
Mediterranean and passed over the Rock. On Europa Road they  
spotted Polanoa's limousine. Good, though Bond, we haven't missed her  
yet. Bond recognized Polanoa's armoured limo from many visits to his  
slave ring. Bond directed Felix to the speeding car.   
  
"That's Polanoa all right!" Felix commented. Then he directed the  
helicopter over to nearly on top of the speeding car. The sunroof was  
opened and he saw Forester, held at gunpoint by Polanoa.   
  
"Forester!" he cried.   
  
"James!" she responded.   
  
"Why can't you die?!" Polanoa shouted. Bond stood on the landing gear  
of the helicopter and prepared to jump. Then he leapt onto the roof of  
the speeding limo. He saw Polanoa hold the Uzi to the back of  
Forester's skull. There were tears of fright in her eyes. She was silently  
begging for him to help her. He silently told her he would.   
  
"You can't save her!" Polanoa snarled. Then Bond crawled into the  
sunroof and and jumped on top of the criminal lord. Bond caught  
Polanoa off guard and the Uzi spun out of his hands. Twenty rounds  
leapt out of the 9mm barrel and into the skull of the limo driver. The  
driver's dead body crumpled and collapsed into the steering wheel.  
Bond, Forester, and Polanoa all bounced about the cabin. Polanoa  
reached for a knife concealed in the seat and tried for Bond's throat.  
Bond was pinned to the bottom of the limo. The dagger came closer to  
Bond's throat. Bond started gasping for air. Forester grabbed a bottle of  
champagne and brough it down on the back of Polanoa's skull. Both  
Bond and Forester scrambled through the sunroof. The helicopter was  
too far away for them to jump on it. The helicopter positioned itself over  
the limousine. Bond used both hands to grab hold of the landing gear.  
Forester hung on with all her strength to Bond's waist. The limousine  
went over the guard rail and plunged into the Mediterrenean. They  
heard Polanoa scream as the limo sailed through the air. Felix piloted the  
helicopter over to solid ground and Bond and Forester boarded the  
helicopter. The nightmare was over at last.  
  
  
  
  
"Farewell, Felix," both Bond and Forester bid farewell to Felix. Felix  
shook his head in disbelief. He couldn't believe that Forester faked her  
fate so well. Then the helicopter lifted into the air and took off with Felix  
at the helm. Once the helicopter was out of sight the pair of lovers headed   
towards Polanoa's yacht.   
  
There was no crew member or henchmen on the yacht, so Bond and  
Forester had the entire yacht to themselves. Bond tossed away the  
mooring ropes and fired up the masive engine. Then he walked over to  
the bridge and put the ship on autopilot. Bond seached the galley and  
discovered a bottle of Russian vodka and French wine.   
  
"Men who have such fine wines can't be all that bad," Bond quipped to  
nobody. He then stepped out onto the deck and found Forester  
standing on the bow. Bond walked over to her, the wine in hand.   
  
"Oh let's not have that wine right now," Forester said as she threw the  
bottle into the Mediterrenean.   
  
"Where do you want to go? Istanbul? Fine food. Monaco? They have  
such beautiful casinos in that country. Spain? Beautiful architecture.  
Greece? Wonderful ruins over there. Perhaps you would like to go  
somewhere in the Middle East. New York? Ice-skating is fantastic,"  
Bond offered. Then he pulled Forester closer to him.   
  
"How about we just cruise about the sea and enjoy each other's  
company," Forester kissed him.   
  
"James? Is Polanoa really dead. He faked his death before," Forester  
was worried.   
  
"Yes. It was a a text book dive of his off the cliff. A death by the  
book you could say."  
  
Both of them embraced, there lips meeting, there bodies melting into one.  
Bond had a brief thought of how this whole adventure had started on a   
cruise ship. But then he was lost in the passion and pleasure of the   
night.  
  
  
The End.  
  
  
James Bond will return in Phoenix From The Flames. 


End file.
